Mementos
by honouraryweasley12
Summary: Ron and Hermione are both struggling with Hermione's imminent return to Hogwarts. Sometimes, the smallest tokens can help ease the burden of an aching heart.


**Mementos**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on November 5, 2017

* * *

An air of impatience was palpable in the comfortable sitting room at The Burrow. The mismatched furniture was currently occupied by four teenagers, three of whom seemed rather content to be sitting in silence.

Ron, however, kept shifting around on the settee, unable to find a position which suited him. Something was clearly bothering him—the expression on his face one of determination tinged with sadness.

It had struck him, a few days earlier as they sat against the big tree in the garden, that his days with Hermione were rapidly coming to an end. He hadn't been prepared with how deeply the thought of their separation would affect him. With everything else that had happened since the end of the war, the realization hadn't truly registered. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to face the truth.

She was leaving.

It wasn't just that she was leaving and he'd miss her. It was also the seed of fear and doubt that gnawed at him. She'd chosen him, and he was deathly afraid. Afraid she'd find something better in her year away. Afraid she'd forget him. Afraid their relationship wouldn't stand such a divide when it was finally getting started.

He'd been thinking a lot about that afternoon from a few days ago. The four of them had been outside, enjoying the last vestiges of summer. He and Hermione were sitting by the big tree, with Harry and Ginny next to them.

There was a moment when he'd suddenly sensed Hermione's eyes on him and he turned to return her gaze, noting a coy smile on her face. She was beautiful, a few flyaway tendrils of hair gently floated in the breeze around her. In that second, when she was looking at him with so much love, all his worries had evaporated, and he'd been totally lost in her.

Now, as the first of September approached, a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach started growing at an alarming rate. He believed she loved him as much as he loved her. He hoped. It was the feeling of loss that was haunting him, one that he sadly knew too well. Like he wouldn't feel whole until they were back together.

He needed something to remind him and reassure him that the separation was temporary. That they'd make it through this and be together again.

With that in mind, he'd come up with what he'd thought was a clever plan, though it had proven to be rather maddening to his girlfriend. He was trying, again, to make his goal a reality.

"Hermione."

She didn't acknowledge him, clearly absorbed in her reading. He poked her in the ribs, trying to elicit a response.

"Hermione, I really need your help."

She tutted under her breath, concentrating on the tiny characters on the parchment in front of her. A second poke in the ribs did little to further his cause.

"Love?"

He poked her in the ribs for the third time, finally prompting her to turn and glare.

Ron smiled his best smile, in an obvious attempt to butter up his annoyed, bushy-haired girlfriend.

"Hi!" Ron said, keeping his smile in place.

She slammed the book closed and answered through gritted teeth.

"What, Ron?"

"Do you have a moment?"

"Can you not see that I'm reading? School starts in a week and I'm so far behind!"

"Pfft, as if you don't already know this stuff. Besides, Ginny's not reading," he countered, nodding towards his little sister, who was lounging against Harry and flipping idly through a Quidditch catalogue.

"No offence to your sister, but I think we both know I take my studies a bit more seriously than she does."

"She's not wrong," Ginny piped up, a grin on her face. "And she's Head Girl to boot. She really should have started studying last week when we got our textbooks, rather than spending so much time with your pasty arse."

It was Ron's turn to glare, this time at his sibling. "Stop encouraging her; she _should_ be relaxing."

"And you think bothering her is helping her to relax?"

"Mind your bloody business."

Hermione's hand squeezed his forearm, and he felt an instant calmness. They'd both been pleasantly surprised to discover how simple touches could communicate so much, now that they could openly show affection to one another. In this case, he knew Hermione was telling him to ignore his sister's goading.

Ron turned his attention back Hermione, who kept glancing at the closed book. He knew she was stressed about the upcoming term. Despite that, she sighed.

"Ron's right. I should be relaxing."

Ginny's mouth gaped in awe. "Ugh, my brother is a terrible influence. You know I'm counting on you to help me get through N.E.W.T.s, especially with Quidditch taking up so much time."

"You've been fine up until now, Ginny. Besides, as Prefect, you'll need to set an example."

"True, but a little extra help wouldn't hurt."

Ron cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the conversation back to him. "Now that you two are finished, I had a question for Hermione."

"Yes?"

"Will you take a photo with me? I'm sure Harry will be happy to do it."

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation, indulging in his request for the umpteenth time over the last week. "Another one? This better be quick."

Ron nodded, the corner of his mouth upturned in a giddy grin. He called out to Harry. "Mate, do you mind?"

"Course not."

Harry jumped off the couch, leaving a pouting Ginny in his wake, her favourite pillow displaced. He fiddled with the camera while Ron and Hermione stood up, looking for a pleasant spot.

Ron watched patiently as Harry got in position with the device. It had become a hobby of his after the war, the need to document the good things in his life. He'd confided to Ron that the photo of him as a baby that they'd found at Grimmauld Place had really stuck, and he wanted to preserve the new memories he held dear. Just like his parents had.

Harry snapped a test shot, before grabbing his wand and producing the photo.

"That's much too dark, let me try again."

Ron could feel Hermione fidgeting, so he wrapped his long arm around his girlfriend's back, before dropping a light kiss into her hair.

"Ok, smile!"

Harry checked the photo again. "Too light this time. Ron's pale enough as is… I can barely see him."

"Wanker," Ron called out.

Harry grinned and held up the camera again.

"1, 2, 3!"

As they waited for Harry to produce the next photo, Ron could hear Hermione muttering under her breath.

"Alright, Hermione?"

She sighed, her patience clearly waning. "It's just that I have a lot to do. How much longer is this going to take?"

"Please, let's just try a couple more?" He looked down at her, his face so hopeful she was unable to resist.

Hermione huffed. "Fine. Harry, how did it come out?"

He was examining the photo. "Sorry, Hermione. Ron's eyes are half-closed in this one."

He snapped another photo, and the wait began again, agitating Hermione further.

"Uh, bad luck. Hermione, your eyes are closed in this one."

In the next photo, Ron hoped everything would be alright. He could tell that his chances were running out.

"Alright, let's try this again." Harry pointed his finger at Ron. "Can you duck down a bit?"

Ron complied.

"Now, Hermione–"

"Just take the bloody picture, Harry!" Hermione growled.

Harry, surprised at his friend's sudden outburst, quickly snapped another one. Hermione didn't even bother staying put, returning to the settee and flipping to the page she'd been on before the interruption.

Ron leapt forward, eager to see the final photo that Harry had produced. Harry handed it over and sympathetically patted Ron on the shoulder. "Sorry."

Ron looked down at the photo, and it was clear that Hermione was unhappy, judging by the frown on her face.

"Sod it all," he exclaimed, before flinging the photo into the fireplace, his shoulders slumping. His tone quickly switched from frustration to defeat. "It was a stupid idea anyway."

Hermione looked up, worried about his sudden swing in behaviour. "Ron?"

He crossed his arms and looked away, like a petulant child. Hermione could tell it was something deeper than mere pouting.

"Ron, why is the photo so important?"

He turned and stared at her for a moment, a telltale flush of embarrassment painting his ears red. He quickly glanced at his sister and mate, before turning back to Hermione.

"You're going to be all the way over there," he burst out, gestured wildly in a random direction, "at bloody Hogwarts. I just wanted a nice photo of you… I'm going to miss you so much."

Hermione's annoyance melted away. "Ron," she began, standing up from the sofa and wrapping her arms around his waist, before resting her head against his chest. "That's so sweet."

She ignored Ginny's teasing wretches, and continued. "You should have just told me, love."

"I know, but it would have felt, I dunno, forced or something. I didn't want you to feel pressured, knowing that I'd be, well, relying on that photo—"

"For wanking," Ginny sniggered.

Ron scowled at his sister over Hermione's bushy hair. "I'm relying on that photo to get me through the year."

She squeezed him tightly, and he returned the action, wanting her to feel how much he loved her.

Harry approached the embracing couple, and shook his head at Ron's ridiculousness. "You could have just told me that's what you were trying to do, even if you didn't want to tell Hermione. Here hold this."

He thrust the camera into Ron's hand and jogged up the stairs, leaving the couple bewildered.

"I hate that we have to be apart. Just when we've finally sorted things out."

"I know, Ron. I feel it, too. I'm counting on school, your Auror training, and your time at the shop to provide enough distraction to keep us from missing each other too much."

They both looked up at hearing the familiar creak of the stairs as Harry returned, a single photo held delicately between his fingers.

"How's this?"

The couple looked down at the moving photo, the scene from the previous week by the tree playing out in front of their eyes. Hermione first looked up, a beautiful smile blossoming across her lips as she watched her beloved. He looked up a second later, an identical smile on his face as their eyes met, never wavering.

"It's perfect," Ron whispered.

Hermione nodded, before standing up on her toes and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. "A year, and we'll have all the time in the world."

He nodded. "Doesn't mean it won't be tough."

"I know."

"You ought to keep it on your desk at the Ministry… so that your admirers know you're taken." Hermione stated, half-jokingly.

"Ha, as if any of them could compare to you. Don't worry, I'll carry it with me everywhere. The Ministry, the shop—"

Ginny couldn't help herself. "Your bedroom."

"Don't be so crass, Ginny." Hermione retorted.

Ron looked down at Hermione and gave her a wink.

"Who else am I going to kiss goodnight… Harry? Only a weirdo would want to kiss that specky git."

His mate and sister's voices rang out simultaneously.

"Hey!"

* * *

The maelstrom in Hermione's stomach had been steadily building, now that they were only a day away from her return to their rebuilt school. Her home for some of the most important moments in her life—including her first kiss with her best-friend-turned-boyfriend.

It had shocked her, how maturely Ron was taking their relationship and how forward-thinking it was of him to plan a way to remember her. Sure, she had a copy of the photo and treasured it immensely, already planning the exact spot on her bedside table where it would reside for the year. But something else had been bothering her since the day that photo was taken.

It had forced her to think about going back would really mean. She couldn't even imagine would it would be like without Ron and Harry. What would her leaving do to the best thing in her life at the present? The thing they'd fought so hard for. The freedom to love and be loved. Now that she finally had it, she was loathed the fact that she had to leave it.

She hadn't told Ron yet, but she was extremely worried about the separation. So much so, she'd been doubting her decision every time she looked at him, spoke to him, or kissed him. Her logical mind was at war with her heart. What if some other witch caught his eye? What if his love for her faded over the time? Would they be strangers when she returned?

As she made her way downstairs for breakfast at The Burrow, she was struggling with a thousand such thoughts.

Ron's smile greeted her, and her jitters calmed, his joyous grin the tonic she needed for her aching heart. They were planning a visit to her parents to say goodbye, and then she'd finish packing and spend her last night with the Weasleys. The whole family was planning on accompanying both her and Ginny to King's Cross.

She tried to hide her fear, but she knew Ron had picked up on it as he pulled out the chair next to him and quickly swung his long arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. As the volume increased in the kitchen and everyone tucked in, Ron leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"Everything alright, love?"

She nodded but didn't reply, not wanting to burden him with her fears. She managed to give him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and reached for a piece of toast. Ron's hand grasped hers under the table, which stilled her thoughts for the moment. Something caught her attention—something that gave her indescribable comfort.

It was his scent, she realized. She'd known for years what he meant to her, but it wasn't until that moment in Slughorn's classroom, wisps of Amortentia floating around her, that it really crystallized in her mind. It wasn't some teenaged crush she'd been feeling for Ron. She loved him.

If only she could bottle up that scent in a non-love-potiony way. It's exactly what she needed when she was away. That thought prompted her onto something much more tangible.

As breakfast wrapped up and they started clearing the table, she noticed that Molly had pulled Ron aside and seemed to be lecturing him about something. With their backs to her, she quickly slipped out of the kitchen and up the stairs, making her way to the top of the crooked house.

Hermione had no qualms about rummaging through Ron's drawers, having done so prior to the hunt. She still blushed when she remembered handling his pants for the first time. Now that they were together, they'd gotten much more comfortable with each other's possessions and space.

"Oh, where is it?" She complained after going through his bottom drawer, her frustration mounting

Turning her attentions to the tiny wardrobe, she flung open the door, suddenly feeling the pressure of time. She'd be absolutely mortified if she was caught making such a mess of his room. Ron's Quidditch kit was hung up inside the narrow wooden structure. She took a moment to affectionately run her fingers over the worn leather. As lovely as it was, this was not what she was so desperately looking for.

A frightening thought occurred to her. What if he'd gotten rid of it? He was always whinging, perhaps he'd done something about it. But then again, it was a gift and he wouldn't do that to his own mother.

Suddenly, she had an inkling of where it might be, knowing that his definition of cleaning his room often consisted of shoving everything within sight under his bed. Getting down on her knees, she ducked down, her brown hair falling in a curtain in front of her face. She blew at the strands and tucked the tendrils behind her ears as she peered at the mess underneath.

Success, she thought to herself, as she rescued the soft wool sweater. It was the typical maroon, with a large R on the front. What made this particular jumper special and recognizable, to Hermione at least, was that it was the one from fifth year.

She sat on her knees, staring down at the bundle in her lap, remembering that Christmas fondly. Even though it had been horrible that Mr. Weasley was injured and Percy was estranged, that might have been the only decent Christmas she'd spent with Ron. Reflecting on that day, she realized how bold of a gesture it had been for Ron to give her that perfume. Not only that, they were actually civil to one another during the holidays that year.

She felt silly in a way, reminiscing over an old sweater, but she didn't care. She smothered her face in the wool and breathed deeply, even letting out a small groan. She felt so safe, surrounded by his scent. This was exactly what she needed to take with her to Hogwarts.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She lowered his sweater, startled at the sudden deep timbre. Ron was leaning casually against the doorframe, a wry smirk on his face on his face as stared down at her.

"Um, I was, uh, just tidying up. You really ought to clean up more often." Hermione's face was burning, and she knew, judging by the widening grin on his face, that her pathetic attempt was not fooling him.

"Is that right? Seems as though you've been the cause of the mess."

"I swear it wasn't me!" Her verbal backpedalling was doing little to dissuade him. She got up to her feet rather unceremoniously, the jumper still clutched in her hand. "I'll have you know—"

"That you want to take my sweater to Hogwarts?" He replied shrewdly.

All of her pretenses dropped, her eyes wide. "How…"

"You seemed so… off at breakfast. I knew something was bothering you, and since you're leaving tomorrow, I thought… well, I hoped… it was because you were going to miss me."

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line in an attempt not to cry. Failing miserably and running towards him, she was engulfed in his arms as her tears blotted on the thin material of his shirt.

Her shaking soon subsided and she looked up, her face a mess. "Of course I'm going to miss you, so much. I don't want to leave you."

Ron chuckled. "Merlin, Hermione Granger choosing me over learning? I never thought that would happen."

She rolled her eyes, but raised her arms and linked them behind his neck. "I'd choose you every time."

"I'm happy to hear to hear it. But, you have to go, as much as I hate it. I think you'd regret it if you didn't."

"I know," she groaned. "I just, love you so much and after everything we've been through, it's scary to be apart."

His hands ran soothingly up and down her back, before giving her a kiss on the tip of her nose. "We'll get through it, yeah?"

"We will, and then we'll have all the time in the world."

"Sounds bloody perfect."

They stood for a moment, their eyes searching their loved one's face, as if memorizing it for the millionth time.

Ron broke the silence. "Well, let's see it then."

"What?"

His long arm reached down as he collected the jumper from her hand.

"This."

She blushed. "I hope you don't mind."

"Are you joking?" It was his turn to redden, as he continued sincerely. "I'd love to see you in this."

She stepped out of his embrace and threw the warm knit over her head, before pulling it down and smoothing it out. It was still too long, but she didn't mind, it just made it all the more cozy as she breathed in deeply, surrounded by him.

A look of awe, almost reverence, was plastered across Ron's face. "Wow!"

"It's alright then?"

"More than alright. Plus, all the blokes at Hogwarts will know you're taken."

She sought out his embrace again, squeezing him tightly around the middle. "You have nothing to worry about. I don't want anyone but you."

Ron's voice cracked with emotion. "I love you, Hermione. It's always been you."


End file.
